William Grant was rather hesitant, but the squirrel grew anxious, darting up and down and starting to squeak frantically. He thought it over again and decided to let it go—after all, with all the plants and flowers on Phoenix Mountain, he’d seen it all; it couldn’t possibly be poisonous.

　　Still, he washed it off, since a squirrel had no other way to transport things except by carrying them in its cheeks. He rinsed it several times before picking up the red fruit and popping it into his mouth, swallowing it whole without even chewing.

　　He couldn’t tell if it was sour or sweet, bitter or astringent; he only felt the red fruit slide down his throat and, as if it bypassed digestion altogether, instantly vaporize into a cool sensation that spread into his stomach, his organs, his limbs and meridians… Every cell, every channel in his body was gently nourished, an indescribable feeling of comfort and wonder.

　　As this wonderful sensation deepened, William Grant’s expression gradually became calm, almost as if he’d lost all vitality. The strange feeling in his body made him forget everything, and even his normal thoughts had ceased.

　　Yet, a sliver of consciousness still lingered in his mind, like a small flame drifting back and forth in a vast, empty darkness. At the same time, that cool sensation continued to circulate within him, the two seemingly locked in a contest, neither willing to dissipate first.

　　He didn’t know how much time had passed before, finally, the cool sensation gave way first, as if transforming into a silver dragon that suddenly rushed downward, heading straight for William Grant’s dantian.

　　At this moment, if he could look inside himself, he would clearly see a wisp of white energy coiling and swirling in his dantian, forming a small cluster of misty white fog.

　　“……”

　　After a long while, William Grant opened his eyes and found himself inexplicably lying on the ground—thankfully, no one was around. He sprang to his feet and shook his head, feeling his mind clear and his spirits high.

　　Branches swayed, wild grass flourished, butterflies danced among the flowers—the whole world seemed more exquisite and vibrant than ever before.

　　He didn’t know what had happened, but he knew something magical must have occurred.

　　“Squeak squeak!”

　　The tiny squeaks sounded again. He glanced over at the fat squirrel squatting on the ground like a farmer, tilting its head to study him, and couldn’t help but complain inwardly:

　　What the heck! I’ve lived 21 years, and you actually changed my settings for me!!!

Chapter 6: Transformation

　　What a cliché!

　　He thought this was a realistic urban novel, but the style changed at the drop of a hat.

　　William Grant had no idea how dangerous the situation just now had been; his soul was now overwhelmed by the urge to complain, mixed with fear and excitement. No wonder—his worldview of 21 years had been completely upended. A young man who’d always believed in scientific progress suddenly found himself in a world of supernatural chaos.

　　“Calm down! Calm down!”

　　He grabbed a folding stool, forced himself to sit down, and tried hard to recall what had just happened.

　　The red fruit entered his mouth, turned into a cool sensation that traveled through his body, and he seemed to lose consciousness, yet could still sense a sliver of awareness. That cool sensation must have settled in his dantian, forming a small, um, very mysterious thing.

　　He really wasn’t sure—he just had a vague feeling about it.

　　“I need to think this through. In situations like this, the first thing I should do is…”

　　He muttered a couple of sentences, then rolled up his sleeve, revealing a fairly pale arm. He rubbed at it—no black sludge came off, nor was there any foul smell.

　　“Tsk, I knew squirrels were lame! Other people can detox and beautify themselves, so why can’t I?”

　　William Grant curled his lip. Seeing that there were no tourists around, he sat cross-legged on the grass and closed his eyes. He wasn’t stubborn—his wild imagination quickly converged on the most reliable approach.

　　That’s right, the method almost universal to all systems: meditation.

　　Generally, ordinary people need a period of practice before they can enter a meditative state, but not him. He’d been making incense since childhood, for over a decade now, and had long since honed a clear and transparent mind. So, within a few breaths, he switched from a state of complaining to that of a sage.

　　“Hoo…”

　　“Hoo…”

　　He kept a steady rhythm of deep breathing, his mind free of distractions, his consciousness clear. At first, nothing changed, but gradually, he began to sense an extremely faint, almost air-like fluctuation, drifting slowly and uncertainly around him.

　　And this faint fluctuation was similar to the thing in his dantian.

　　William Grant continued to meditate, feeling the fluctuations grow more numerous, but they never came close, let alone entered his body. After a while, he opened his eyes, both delighted and disappointed.

　　Delighted because: if his guess was right, those fluctuations and the thing in his dantian were spiritual energy from heaven and earth.

　　Disappointed because: although the red fruit had helped a lot and allowed him to sense spiritual energy, he didn’t know any cultivation techniques and couldn’t absorb it.

　　It was such a frustrating feeling!

　　Like finally mastering corpse-driving, only to find everyone else had sea burials. Or working yourself to the bone to learn geomancy, only to have to hand it over to the state. Or grinding your way to a Grand Slam in Europe, marrying a chubby white girl, only for the author to finish the story right then.

　　“Sigh…”

　　William Grant half-laughed, half-sighed. Sure enough, eight or nine out of ten things in life don’t go as one wishes.

　　He was easygoing by nature and didn’t complain much. Seeing the squirrel still squatting beside him like a farmer, he couldn’t help but say, “You’re so spiritual—surely you’ve eaten some kind of rare treasure too.”

　　“Where did you pick that fruit?”

　　“Are there any other things over there?”

　　“Look at you, look at you, you’re not even following the basic rules, you know?”

　　He nagged a few more sentences, but the squirrel just tilted its head, not understanding a thing.

　　“Heh, forget it…”